Feeling Right
by Dream of Californication
Summary: When he believes a confession was a joke, Snake storms out, and gets into a car accident. At the hospital, though, he and Scott find that a relationship together would feel just right. *SNUND SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME BAD LANGUAGE YEP ALSO IT'S VERY CRAPPY*


** I was bored. Sorry if it's crappy. Here's a lil something, to apologize for flooding your dashes with stupid shit.**

**Words: 1,380**

**Part: 1 of 1**

**-D.O.C**

**888888888888**

"Sir?!"

A woman's squeaky voice cut through the murky darkness, drilling straight into his skull.

He stirred, not wanting to open his eyes, but knowing it would be inevitable.

It was blinding, a blur of nausea-inducing red and blue lights. The disgusting scent of filthy oil clung to him. Dirty hands were groping his neck, no doubt shedding the powder from vinyl gloves onto his skin.

"Sir, can you hear me?!"

He forced himself to keep from pushing the woman away. That wouldn't be very polite, after all.

"Sir?!"

He tried to look around, but his neck was held fast. People noticed this, and they went into a panicked, untidy swarm, hands flurrying over his person, causing the man to nearly scream.

His gaze was fixed straight ahead, and he felt himself being lifted onto a flat surface, rolling up into a white box. _'An ambulance...?'_

"Snake!"

There was a cacophony, a disorganized choir, muffled by the walls of the ambulance.

"Snake!" The doors at his feet were torn open, and he could feel a tearing wind enter the small space.

"Sir! You can't ride in here!"

"The fuck I can't! I-I'm... his boyfriend!"

_'Hm?'_ The man thought, the smallest amount of anger bubbling in the back of his fuzzy head.

There was more talking, but the voice finally gained permission to board the ambulance. It got closer, uttering unintelligible sobs, murmuring semi-sweet nothings.

Cold hands pawed at his face, and he struggled to catch a glimpse of the person who owned that voice. It sounded so familiar, to his ringing ears and muddy head.

"You're g-going to be fine, man. Shit, you're going to be fine. I'm s-so sorry." It cracked in a few places, but he found the voice tolerable. It was decently pleasant; no nasal undertones or rough edges. It had a relatively smooth current to it.

The ride seemed to take an eternity, but he managed to grip his consciousness, until he was wheeled from the back of the ambulance.

"We're here. Don't worry. You'll be fine."

**888888888888**

When Scott had run outside, he was already screaming.

All he saw was Snake's car flying and rolling, a larger vehicle propelling it.

The rest of the crew sprinted after him, Cry even forgetting to don his enamel mask, in the panic.

"SNAKE!" His throat was raw, and he took swings at the policemen that were already responding on the scene. It turned out that they had been tailing the speeding drunk behind the wheel of a huge truck, for miles.

They were lifting him out of the crushed car, and paramedics were being rushed in as the cops set up barricades and flares.

Russ held him back, while Cry crooned in his ear, "It wasn't your fault."

How dare they? How dare they talk in past tense?! Snake wasn't dead! He wouldn't be. He couldn't be.

When the medics loaded Snake into the back of the ambulance, Scott broke free from Russ' firm grip, and vaulted over the barricades, running straight to the vehicle, dodging the grabbing hands that tried to stop his lanky form.

"Snake!"

"Sir! You can't ride in here!"

"The fuck I can't! I-I'm his," He spun around, already halfway in, "...boyfriend!"

"That doesn't matter." The paramedic growled, and a small, verbal spat ensued, before the medic's superior finally joined and caved, if only to get the patient to the hospital.

Jund carefully picked a spot at Snake's side, trying not to get in the way, whilst attempting to be the closest to the man on the stretcher.

He talked to him, through the whole ride, trying to keep Snake conscious. The guy's eyes stayed open, darting around like a cornered dog's, but there was still understanding behind them. He was functioning. Jund was relieved.

When they wheeled him into the ICU, Scott had to stay behind, so he took a seat in the waiting room and spent his time gripping the arms of the chair, violently.

After a few hours, the rest of the crew walked in, Russ and Red disheveled, Cry's mask chipped, from when he had dropped it on the rush to the ambulance.

"Jund," Cry started, trying to lend a comforting hand to the younger man. "Hey-"

"Stop." Scott shrunk away, just as a door opened.

A young doctor poked his head in, "Mr. Jund? He's stable."

The remaining trio attempted to go with him, but they were stopped by a, "Sorry, family only."

_'I didn't know that boyfriends counted as family,'_ Scott wrapped his arms around his midsection, _'they must be pretty lenient, here.'_

The pair came to a stop in front of a door, and the doctor opened it, scanning the clipboard, "If he wakes up, please, call in the nurses."

Jund nodded, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

He looked around. Tubes, monitors, the usual _hospital-y_ things.

Shuffling over to the bedside, he took a seat in the chair, studying his friend.

"Wow, you're actually more interesting to talk to, when you're asleep."

Sarcasm bore no reply.

"Snake, if you could wake up, that'd be great."

Curtness didn't cause a stir.

"I'd kiss you, but I'm not a knight, princess."

Insults couldn't make him twitch.

Scott hung his head, trying to keep his breath from hitching. It was all his fault.

_**"What do you want, Jund?"**_

_**The coarse reply stung, scraping along nonexistent wounds.**_

_**"I just need to tell you something."**_

_**"Spit it out, then. I don't have the time for this." Snake's dismissal hurt almost as much as one of his punches.**_

_**"It's... private."**_

_**The tall man crossed his arms over his chest, and Scott couldn't help but stare at the bunched muscles, making the other male's eyes narrow, "Come on. Hurry up."**_

_**Jund's voice dropped to a whisper, and he forced it out, nearly tasting bile at the elementary sentence.**_

_**"I like you."**_

_**"Excuse me?" Snake cupped his ear, "Speak up, Campbell."**_

_**"I LIKE YOU, OKAY?" He spat, stomach clenching with the admission, "As more than a friend. I-I fucking like you."**_

_**Scott opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them, and he stumbled backwards at the expression on Snake's face. It was contorted with utter rage, and his broad shoulders were shaking. **_

_**"You think you're fucking funny, huh, you little shit?" His voice was calm, but his tone was quivering with anger, rasping threateningly.**_

"It's all my fault, huh?" Scott rubbed his face, smiling despite his guilty mood, "Man, I really fucked up."

"You didn't fuck up. You just lied."

_**Snake slammed Cry's front door, behind him, and the four friends all flinched, as they heard an engine revving.**_

_**"Maybe you should have told him, later on."**_

_**"Shut up, Russ." Jund swiped at his eyes, and he froze at the sound of screeching metal.**_

_**The other three stood stock-still, as well, until Jund bolted.**_

_**"Snake!"**_

"What do you mean, 'lied?'" Scott feigned nonchalance, and looked up to meet steel-blue eyes.

"'Boyfriend,' is what I mean." Snake's voice was hoarse, more gravelly than it was, normally. "You're really committed to this little joke."

"It wasn't a joke, but, you can believe whatever you want to believe." Jund stood up, reaching for the call button.

The hand on the back of his neck stopped him, and he was jerked downwards.

"Shut the fuck up." The hospitalized one hissed, pulling the other down into a harsh kiss.

It was rough, full of sharp teeth and the taste of blood. It was long, but something didn't feel... _right_, to Snake.

The other guy felt too delicate. Snake was always a harsh and thorough kisser, but Jund seemed like he was more of a chaste smooch-er.

But, when the larger man finally pushed the other away, Jund's cheekbones were colored darkly, his eyes glazed over, lips slowly flushing into a raw-looking red.

And it suddenly felt just so damn right.

**888888888888**

**Again, sorry, if it was crappy.**

**I'm not so good at writing stand-alone stuff.**

**-D.O.C**


End file.
